Difference Doesn't Matter
by AngelaMay234
Summary: They're kidnapped, and must rely on each other to avoid insanity. What will happen?
1. Kidnapped

_I know I said I'd already posted my last SoN story, but I've been working on this a few days and figured I wanted to post it. I asked my sister, but she said no. anyway, hope you enjoy it!_

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><p>Mrs. Brisby awoke early the next morning. The sky was still dark, but the rain had long since stopped. She looked around the quiet room to find her children asleep, Mr. Ages slumped in one corner; she could hear the shrew snoring in the other room. She sighed, feeling refreshed, grabbing her cape and wrapping it around her shoulders. The red jewel of the Stone glittered as it tumbled to her bed, and she gazed at it with fear in her eyes. She remembered every detail of what happened, until she'd passed out, and didn't think she would be able to handle that type of power. She looked up, hearing the faint sounds being blown to her on the wind, knowing the rats would still be clearing their home to try and trick the humans from NIMH. She wondered if Justin would be there.<p>

_One way to find out, _she figured, and headed into the twilight. The air was cool, the sky clear, but almost every detail was lost to shadow. The moon was new, and the only light was a small glow coming from the farm house, or rather the large bush that sat in front of it. She headed quickly towards it, careful to stay under cover, only to have a large form block her path. She was about to cry out, when a firm hand clasped onto hers.

"Mrs. Brisby," he whispered. He brought her to her feet, then to a spot hidden from the bush by long grasses. Surprisingly, the light was also better. She was able to clearly see the grin on his face, the small pack that rested over his shoulders. "I was just coming to see you."

"So was I," she said in response, and giggled. But then her smile faded. "I was afraid you would leave before I woke up."

He tilted her chin back with his hand, so she could see the glitter in his eyes. "I asked Ages to send for me when you awoke," he told her, and seemed to move closer. "I would have waited."

She smiled, then suddenly threw her arms around him. He was quick to return the gesture, holding her tightly against him. "I'm going to miss you," she whispered.

He smiled, running a hand through the fur of her cheek. "We're only a short flight away."

Their gazes met then, unable to part. She didn't know how she felt about him. She wasn't in love, that she was certain of, but why did she enjoy being in his arms, the soft, tender feeling when his lips touched hers? She sighed, tightening her grip on his shoulders, allowing her eyes to slowly fall shut. It had to be infatuation, she figured, and knew it was best to get rid of the feelings now, before something more drastic happened, something that found them bound by marriage.

"I have to leave soon," he whispered, and slowly pulled his mouth from hers. Mrs. Brisby felt her head drop to his chest; her hands tighten on the cloth that covered it.

"Oh please no," she hissed. She could feel her body shiver. "Please, Justin…don't leave…I…" she trailed off. She shouldn't say that. It wasn't true, it couldn't be, but then why was she acting this way? "I'm frightened."

He smiled, running a hand through her soft hair. "You'll be okay," he whispered to her. He pulled away, holding her shoulders as he knelt before her, looking her in the face. "Nothing can hurt you," he said.

"I'm frightened for you," she blurted, hiding her eyes. Tears had suddenly begun to slide down her cheeks. He reached up, but she suddenly pushed him away, running back to her house. Resting on the ground before him was the slumbering Stone. He let his claws graze its surface, slipping it into a pouch at his belt. He rose from his crouch, watching the spot where she'd vanished, then turned and slowly began to walk away. He'd gone barely three feet when there was a sharp blow to the back of his head. He fell, and through his fading vision saw her, slumped over the shoulder of an enormous creature, a small wound leaking blood.

"Mrs.…Brisby," he managed, then slumped into unconsciousness.


	2. Waking Up

He didn't think he'd opened his eyes when he awoke, as it was perfectly pitch dark. The light moaning he'd heard in the last few seconds of sleep had faded, but he could still sense someone else. Minutes later his eyes had adjusted, and he could faintly make out the walls of a vast chamber, with a dim pocket of flame burning every few yards. In the farthest corner was a small pile of shadow, the size of which had grown very familiar to him in the past several hours. He rose slowly to his feet, going to her side as though he trod on hot coals.

"Mrs. Brisby," he hissed. In the shifting light he could make out a small wound in her side, a slightly larger one visible on the back of her head. Bits of dried blood crumbled from her hair, but her eyes refused to open. "Mrs. Brisby…please,"

She moaned softly, breath stirring his fur as she turned into his chest. She clung to him, burying her face in the dirt-spattered cloth, crying as she was gripped by a nightmare.

"No…" she was speaking, giving clues to what raged in her mind. "No, please…keep it away from me!"

"Mrs. Brisby," Justin gripped her arms tightly, raising his voice to try and break through the dream. "Mrs. Brisby, it's me, Justin. You're having a nightmare. Wake up!"

Her eyes snapped open, breath rasping in her throat as she focused on the creature before her. She whispered his name, thankful to feel his claws dig into her skin. She looked around, finally seeing where they were trapped. "W-Where are we?"

He shook his head, releasing his hold on her. "I don't know," he admitted. "I just woke up a short while ago."

"It looks like some kind of dungeon," she mused. The ceiling above was lost to shadow, the distant walls barely visible. The floor beneath them was covered in straw, and a faint trickle told of water…somewhere. "How long have we been here?"

"A day, at the most," Justin's internal clock was finely tuned; so much that he could tell it was day without seeing the sun. "But I doubt we'll be here for long."

"What do you-" at that moment a wide door came open, shrieking on rust-coated hinges. A tall, broad-shouldered form entered to block the firelight; a frightening grin of wicked teeth split his heavily shadowed face. He didn't speak, but instead drew a knife and launched it at Mrs. Brisby. Justin dashed in front of her, blade hitting his chest mere centimeters from his heart. He fell, bringing a laugh from the attacker.

"So, you do care for her," the shadow said. His smile seemed to widen. "You will learn that is a fatal mistake."

"What do you want with us?" Justin had a hand pressed to his wound, but the steel in his eyes refused to melt. Their captor only laughed, then turned and exited the chamber. The door slammed loudly behind him. Mrs. Brisby quickly knelt beside her friend, eyes drifting to his torn shirt. His fingers were tightly wrapped around the blade's handle, and he took a sharp breath when he recognized the shape. Seconds later he rose, going to the spot where he had originally woken up. They hadn't bothered to confiscate his pack, or even any of the weapons he had in it. But the knives and short sword were ignored as he dug through it, taking several things into his bloodstained hands. Mrs. Brisby soon came beside him.

"Let me," she said. She took the bandages from his grasp, startled at the assortment of medical herbs she saw. "You spoke with Ages, didn't you?"

He laughed, supporting himself on his left arm. "He wanted to make sure we all had what we needed, since we'd be protecting the others."

She smiled, setting the ball of gauze aside. She watched as Justin moved to his knees, undoing the single button on the collar of his uniform. He pulled the cloth away from his chest, revealing that the wound wasn't as near his heart as she had first thought. The blade had been buried in the space where his shoulder merged with his chest, narrowly missing his vital organs. Mrs. Brisby could barely keep the blush from her face as she worked on the wound, doing what she could with the supplies that she had. By the time she finished with the bandages, she felt as though her own heart would burst. He pulled his shirt closed again, only to have the mouse collapse in his arms.

"Mrs. Brisby?" he asked. She looked up, trying to smile as a tear slipped down her cheek. He wiped it away, feeling her shiver. "Are you alright?"

"I'm so frightened," she said at last. Her shaking only grew worse. She sobbed a few minutes longer, clinging to him, feeling his arms wrap slowly around her. "Justin, what do they want with us?"

He tilted her chin back with his hand, again wiping the salt from her cheeks. "My only guess is that they want us out of the way, but for what I don't know."

She sniffed, but seemed to calm when his embrace tightened around her. "Could they be after the valley?"

"I couldn't say," he admitted. "Though it seems likely."

"I'm just glad the…children…have someone to watch them." She sighed, falling into sleep. Justin stayed up a while longer, no longer feeling the pain of his wound. He didn't know how he felt toward the mouse, but knew it must have been more than a crush, especially with what had happened earlier. It wasn't the first time he had kissed someone, but it was the first he could recall where he had truly enjoyed it. His eyes strayed to her sleeping form, gliding over her curved hips, her lovely face contorted with fear.

He knew now why Jon had married her, why he had risked his life every day to keep the others from his family, to prevent them spreading his secret. But Justin didn't love her; he couldn't. Not only were they of different species, but he had genes that she did not, and would most likely never have. But she knew that now, thanks to him and his kind, and she seemed to accept it, even if it meant that she would never get to see her children grow. If Mother Nature had her way, then they would be orphans in just a few short months.

_I'll do what I can for them, _he thought, staring at the ceiling. He could faintly make out its uneven surface, the nooks and crannies that came with natural formation. Then, knowing he'd be up for a while, he slowly rose and made his way to the wall, determined to memorize every inch of their surroundings, certain he could use the information to get them home alive.


	3. The Searching

"You checked everywhere, right?"

He nodded. "Yes, we've looked everywhere, Isabella," he sighed impatiently. "He's nowhere here, and he's not on the farm."

"Did you check with the Brisby mice, Carlos?" she asked. "You know how much he wanted to see them before we left."

"Ages was there the entire night," Carlos informed her. "He and the children all say that she was gone when they woke up, and even that old shrew agrees with them."

"Okay, but that doesn't tell us where Justin is." Isabella watched as numerous birds darted through the sky, heading off in every direction, their riders determined to find their new leader, no matter what the cost. They had placed Arthur in charge while they searched, though most of them came to Izzy for help. She was Justin's second cousin, almost as well-known for her cool head and level thinking, able to keep them going as they hurried to construct their new colony.

"He wouldn't have just vanished," she mused. "And the fact that Mrs. Brisby is gone too makes me worry…"

"Maybe they wanted to…get to know each other better…" even as he said it, Carlos knew it sounded stupid, and Isabella just added to it.

"She wouldn't leave her children," she said. "She didn't strike me as that sort of person. But now that you mention it…" she paused, trying to think. "That old shrew stays at her house almost all the time, so maybe she felt the children would be safe while she went off with him."

"But they'd only known each other a day," he recalled. "Not even that, because it was practically noon when she showed up at the bush."

"Feelings don't have a time limit, Carlos," she snapped. "They form as they see fit; no one can control them."

"You do have a point, but this isn't helping us find him, or Mrs. Brisby."

"You're right, but what more can we do?" she sighed, turning away as he stepped into the hall.

(****)

"Any sign of him?" a full day had passed, and the search parties had just returned. Arron, the leader of the one sent to the farm, curtly shook his head.

"We found traces of blood and some footprints near the Brisby home, but there was nothing to suggest where they could have gone."

The reports from the woods, the stream, and the mountains were just as disheartening. There had been no sign of either creature, nor what may have happened to them. The only positive thing would have to be that their plan had worked, that the men from NIMH believed that it had just been a group of ordinary rats living in the bush, who had fled at the first sign of trouble. Carlos was about to head in when a large shadow fell over him, and he looked up to see a massive raven, its eyes wild with fury as it settled on the ground in front of him. There was a single rider mounted on its back, a creature who kept his face hidden as he tossed a small package into the dust.

"Listen closely if you want them to live," he hissed, then suddenly steered the bird back into the sky. Carlos hid his face from flying sand, gazing down at the brown cloth. There was a folded note tied with black thread, the words written in a familiar, terrifying hand. His comrades had formed a growing group around him, and one of them deftly plucked the note from his hands.

"It's from Jenner," he realized, seeing the name at the bottom. "But I thought he was dead…"

"What does the note say?" a girl questioned. She looked over his shoulder, scanning the words while a frightened whimper grew in her throat.

"Oh, my God!" she fell away, hands pressed to her lips as tears filled her eyes. Thomas turned to the mass of creatures, hiding his fear as he read aloud:

"My men are coming to destroy this land. Unless you and your followers follow my orders, I will make sure you perish, along with your precious valley. I have your leader, and your heroine, within my grasp. They will remain safe as long as you obey."

The air leaked into frightened murmurs, some disbelieving that the dark rat could be behind this. They had all seen Sullivan stab Jenner, using the last minutes of his life to right a terrible wrong. But the Stone had revived the Brisby children. Had it also brought others back from the grave?

"One of you," snapped Carlos. He tore the sheet back from Thomas' paws. "Bring this note to Arthur and Isabella. They need to be informed."

That girl came up, nodding as it was passed to her hands. "I'll make sure they get it," she replied, and hurried into the tunnels. She slid it beneath the door to Arthur's private workshop, knowing he would handle it.

Thomas stayed as the others went back inside. He was tired, but curious to see what the package held. He watched as Carlos unwrapped it, both gasping in shock when they saw what it contained. Two objects tumbled to the ground at their feet. One was a piece of dark blue cloth, torn from the hem of Justin's vest, the other a glimmering jewel cast in a backing of gold. Both were covered liberally with blood, some fresh enough that it still longed to soak into the earth. "So it's true…"


	4. Keeping Secrets

Ages watched as the storm clouds rolled in, hearing thunder pound in the distance. The shrew had gone out to look for Mrs. Brisby, leaving him to care for her young children.

"Mr. Ages," he looked down to see Cynthia tug on his shirt. He hadn't liked them much at first, but had grown fond of them in past days, almost as a result of their frightening ordeal.

"Yes, what is it, child?" he asked, already knowing.

"Timmy won't take his medicine," the little girl pulled him along, bringing him to the room where they slept. Timothy was lying still on his bed, a bowl of warm, but cooling soup on the small chair beside him. "See?"

"Timothy," Ages said sternly. He went over and picked up the wooden bowl. "You must take this, or you may never recover."

"I don't want it," said Timothy. His voice was no longer raspy, but he still sounded as though he struggled for breath. "It tastes yucky."

Ages sighed, whispering to Cynthia to get a certain vial from the kitchen. As soon as she was gone he sat with the bowl in his lap, lifting a spoonful to Timmy's parted lips. He recoiled, saying the taste made him feel nauseous.

"Why does stuff that's good for us taste so nasty?" he asked.

"Because that's just how it works, Tim," Martin pulled the curtain aside, allowing passage for their two sisters. Cynthia a small vial of honey clasped in her hands, while Teresa had her fingers wrapped around the tea kettle from the fire. Steam rose from its spout, and the scent told of the broth that boiled within it. Mr. Ages allowed her to pour a small portion into the bowl, adding a few drops of the golden liquid to try and mask the herbs' vile flavors. Timothy took a small spoonful, and soon had eaten the entire bowl. He fell slowly into a contented sleep, unknowing of the ordeal his family was caught in.

"Has he been informed of your mother's disappearance?" Ages said quietly. Martin shook his head.

"We thought it best not to," he whispered. "He's still pretty weak, and any big shock could kill him."

"Indeed. We will wait until he has recovered, but hopefully she'll be back before then."

"I know where she went," the shrew hissed, coming down the wooden stairs. She had arrived just in time to hear the conversation, and did her best to keep her voice down. "She went off with one of those rats; he kidnapped her, I bet, those hairy barbarians!"

"Who was it?" questioned Teresa.

"Justin, I think his name was. She ran from him crying, but never made it back inside the house."

"How do you know all this?" said Martin, sounding suspicious. The shrew quickly explained that she'd heard their mother leave, and had followed her to make sure she was safe. She had started back once the mouse had left; surprised that she wasn't at the house. That was all she knew, but they had the feeling that she was hiding something, something she claimed they'd be better off not knowing.

"Well, if she's with Justin, then I can assure you that she'll stay safe." Ages looked almost reluctant. "The boy may be young, but he's no coward. He'll make sure nothing happens to her."

"But that still doesn't tell us where they are," said Teresa. But at the moment she was more worried for Timothy, and the effect it would have on his health if he ever found out.

(****)

The rain poured for several days, as it always did near the start of spring. The surrounding land had quickly become thick black mud, sucking down anything unlucky enough to be caught in its path. The shrew had long since gone home, and the children had assisted their caretaker in barricading the front door, to make sure nothing got inside. It did take several short breaks, during which Martin and Mr. Ages ventured cautiously outside, gathering what seeds and herbs they could, most often returning home just as the rain began again.

One such outing had almost ended in disaster, as a puddle of soaked soil had broken free, sliding down the rock and threatening to crush them both; they'd just barely escaped. Ages realized it had been nearly two weeks when the storms finally stopped and just moments after the sky cleared a strange scratching was heard on the roof of the house. Ages told the children to wait inside, and he reached the door was confronted by a young guard named Thomas.

"Any luck, my boy?" Ages asked, quietly so no one could hear. Thomas shook his head.

"None," he hissed gravely, then brought several items from a small pack at his side. The first was a note, written in Jenner's hand, telling where the creatures were, and the next two were haunting proof. The scrap of blue cloth was covered in Justin's scent, and the Stone glittered sharply, as though angered at being separated from her. Both objects were stained with old blood.

"Where did you find these?" Ages asked, swallowing his shocked gasp.

"A creature on a raven came to us," replied Thomas. "He dropped these, then disappeared."

The old mouse looked thoughtful, then began to grow worried. "If this note is true," he said, gazing at the spattered page. "Then there's a high chance they may already be dead."

Thomas shivered; hoping to God there was still time to save them.

(****)

Justin sat before the fire, staring down at the bloody hole torn in his right sleeve, fresh bandages visible beneath. They had been trapped for close to two weeks, adding to his suspicions that whoever had taken them wanted them out of the way, but apparently didn't want them dead. Twice a day the door of their prison creaked, opening just enough for bits of bread to be thrown in, quickly slamming shut. He held a piece in his mouth as he gazed about, eyes straying to the small stream previously hidden by shadow. It was narrow, but deep enough to harbor fish the size of his hand. It was the only type of meat his kind dared touch, the only type they saw fair to consume. His gaze then shifted to the lady in red.

Mrs. Brisby sat on the opposite side, taking several pieces of long straw she had gathered, weaving them into what appeared to be some sort of blanket. Her slim fingers worked confidently, sometimes straying to a small mark on the side of her neck.

The wound was tiny, no bigger than the head of a pin. He had no idea how she had received it, but every other day two guards entered their cell, the larger of the two holding him back as she was dragged away, blinded and gagged by cloth they tied around her head. Once she was out he was released, never able to reach the door quickly enough to free her. Their actions angered him, but at the same time evoked his curiosity.

"Timmy's sure to have recovered by now," she murmured, as though to herself. Her deft hands paused in their work, moving the thing to her side as she rose slowly to her feet. He hadn't noticed until now that she no longer had the Stone, and that there was a large tear at the hem of his vest. She sighed, tears dripping from her eyes as she walked the bare ring of earth around the flames. The fire was fed by sticks he had found on the stream's opposite bank, the area around it cleared of the straw that lay thickly piled everywhere else. She fell at his side, resting her head on his shoulder.

"I feel terrible," she whispered, almost delirious. "I-I never should have left the house…"

Justin sighed, draping his arm around her. Her fur was damp with sweat, her forehead burning with fever. "You should lay down," he whispered. He stood, laying her down gently on the soft soil. He then covered her with her unfinished blanket, smiling as he wiped damp hair from her face. He turned to see the rough bowl near the stream, one she had crafted from the clay in its base their first night. He filled it with water, watching his reflection shift as he carried it back to her side. There was a spare scrap of cloth trapped in his pack; he soaked it to cool her burning forehead.

"What do they do to you?" he questioned her, seeing her eyes clear. She shook her head.

"I…don't know," she managed, shifting. She untied her cape, folding it to place beneath her head. "They keep me blindfolded the entire time; I don't even know where they take me."

"I believe I do," he whispered. He had finally recognized the mark on her throat; it was identical to the one he had on his stomach, one of many reminders of his days at NIMH. "They've injected you with something," he explained. "The blindfold is to prevent you from seeing where, and the gag is to keep you from screaming."

She struggled to raise herself. He lowered her back down. "But why?" she asked, gripping his hand. Her tender eyes were full of fear. "Why do this to me?"

"I don't know," he whispered, then abruptly turned away. "We can talk later, but now you should rest. It may be a long night."

She hesitated, nodded, turned on her side. In moments sleep had taken over. Justin uncurled his clenched fist, blood pooling in his fur where his claws had pierced his skin. He knew exactly what they were doing to her, and that made it all the more difficult to keep himself under his control. He calmed though, seeing her lie peacefully beside him, barely able to recognize how he felt.

_She__'__s__…__so __beautiful, _he thought, brushing hair back from her closed eyes. "You innocent fool," he hissed, smiling. "You think you're safe with me?" unable to control himself, he leaned forward, and kissed her fully on the lips.


	5. Mixed News

"Still no sign of them?" she asked. Carlos shook his head.

"Not so much as a shadow," he said, and plopped down on their blue couch. He and Isabella weren't married, but they had been living together since she'd been old enough to move on her own. He did have a crush on her, a big one, but he did his best not to show it. She was the one every guy liked, the same way the girls went after her cousin. She had a gorgeous face, a perfect body, and the sweetest brown eyes, pools of warm, melted chocolate worries and fear just drowned in. his heart pounded as she sat beside him, running a hand through her long brown hair. Unlike her cousin, her fur was a mix of brown and white spots, with a red dot on her forehead that served as a birthmark. She sighed, letting her face rest in her paws.

"I'm just so worried about them," she mumbled. She and Mrs. Brisby had had quite a talk in the library, as the mouse had waited to meet with their leader, and had grown to love the creature like a sister. She had even told of her cousin's single status, and that all the young girls were on his tail.

"Don't worry, Bella," said Carlos, placing a hand on her back. He rubbed it comfortingly, giving her a warm smile. "We'll find them."

"I hope so," she whispered, wiping her tears. She turned to him, letting her nails drift to his collar, pulling him forward until their lips met. His dark eyes widened in shock, remaining that way as she pulled away.

"What was that?" he asked, heart racing.

"Something I've wanted to do for a while," she replied, blushing. He loved it when she looked like that. "I know I have a lot of guys on my tail," she continued. "But it's you I like; I want you to stay with me."

He couldn't help as his face lit up. "You have no idea what that means to me," he said quietly. She smiled, letting her head fall in his lap as sleep overtook her. He watched her rest for what felt hours, stroking her smooth hair and placing a small kiss on her cheek. He couldn't wait to tell the others in his guild, wanting to see the looks on their faces. He wasn't the best-looking guy in the community, but he was cute enough that girls still fawned over him. His dark brown fur and black eyes gave him an almost mysterious appearance, his long black hair pulled from his face by a thick leather band. He was a slender youth that kept to himself, preferring his workshop to the bustle of the halls. His father had wanted him to be a guard, but he'd chosen the role of a stonemason. The work was dirty but easy enough, and the physical labor gave him the outlet he needed to vent his frustrations.

He'd been teased a lot as a child, mostly by Justin and his friends, who were members of the second generation. Carlos had never found out why they'd made fun of him, but he figured it'd had something to do when they'd entered their last year of school. By then it had become known amongst the boys that he had a crush on Isabella, and had constantly threatened to tell her. The idea had always made him blush, and they would embarrass him to no end because of it. He had tried to ignore them, and though their leader had eventually stopped, the others had continued the harassment to the present day, the jokes taking on a sexual nature.

They'd called him homo, a freak, the loser only a mother could love. Carlos's mother had died when he was a baby, having not been one of those to receive NIMH's injections. They'd called him a half-breed, which was the greatest insult. That was why his father and older brother had encouraged him to join the guard, wanting him to prove that he was no different than they were, regardless of what other genes he may have had. But he knew they didn't really understand.

Damon had never been teased, having taken after their father. He'd always been able to defend himself, both physically and verbally, and had never come to his young brother's rescue, even when he'd been found unconscious in the school's gymnasium. His tormenters had hit him over the head with a large stone, making sure his hair covered the wound. Austin had never been able to admit that his wife hadn't been one of them, and still refused to speak of her death.

_I won't let her down, _he promised silently. He wasn't going to shame his mother, not after all she had done for him. _I'm going to make them regret what they did to me. _His fist tightened, eyes narrow with anger.

(****)

"Hey, Tim, wake up; your fever's gone."

Timothy opened his eyes, seeing Martin's face above him, his vision was no longer blurry, his chest didn't hurt, and for once his pillow was free of sweat. He sat up, glad to find he was no longer dizzy.

"How long's it been?" he asked, voice clear.

"It's been a month," said his brother, stepping away. "Mom said you could get up once your fever was gone."

Tim shoved his blankets away, putting his feet hesitantly on the floor. The only problem was that he still felt weak, but knew it would change in a few days. "Where is mom?" he asked.

"She's out looking for food," replied Martin, before he could think. The past evening they had rehearsed what to say to him, wanting to keep him ignorant of her kidnapping as long as they could. "We don't know when she'll be back."

Timothy stood, going over to where his clean clothes lay in a small pile. He pulled a red shirt from the top, discarding the filthy green one he'd been wearing for weeks. He then looked around. "Where are the girls?"

"They went with Ages and Auntie Shrew; they left me here to make sure nothing happened to you."

"Oh." Tim went into the other room, catching a glance of the land outside. The view was different than the one he was used to. "Hey, Martin, was our house moved or something?"

"Um…" Martin hesitated, then decided he had as much right to know of the rats as they did, and resolved to tell him. "Yeah it did."

"How?"

"By the rats that lived in the rosebush," he related the tale Mr. Ages had told him, filling the gaps with details Justin had supplied. He kept out the part the Shrew had added, knowing Tim was still too weak for such a large shock. Time passed while the telling went on, the story ending just as Teresa stepped into the living room.

"What's going on?" she asked, seeing her younger brother out of bed. "How are you feeling, Timmy?"

"I feel fine," replied Tim, who was still unsteady on his feet. He fell to his back as Cynthia hugged him, wrapping her arms tightly around his slim chest.

"Timmy better!" she cried. Tim laughed, pushing her off.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Cynthia," he said, standing once more. "But I'd like to know where mom is. Why won't you tell me?"

His siblings looked at each other, not sure how to respond.

(****)

She watched as the cloth was pulled from his chest, the bandages clean on his wound. Slowly, she undid the small knot, unwrapping his shoulder to see a mark the size of his palm. "It's left a scar," she told him, discarding the cloth. He shrugged, but didn't close his shirt right away.

"I've had worse," he said, then smiled. "But one thing still bothers me."

"And what would that be?" she asked, turning away from his pack. She had been putting away the herbs she'd taken out.

"We've been here for weeks, and I still don't know your first name."

She blushed. "I…don't have one, actually," she said quietly.

"Really?"

She nodded. "Jonathan said he would give me one, but…we never found one we could agree on." She listed a few of them, most of which didn't suit her at all. He laughed, as John had always been horrible with the concept of names. "The only two I liked we used for our daughters."

Justin sat back, buttoning his collar as he thought of one she may enjoy. Several came to mind, but most were too common in the community, others too bizarre. He wanted one that explained her personality, that fit her gentle, pleasing nature. "Rossa…"

"What?"

He smiled, moving closer. His hand rose to cup her sweet face. "Rossa; it's Latin, meaning _beautiful flower._"

She blushed, watching his eyes glint in the dim light of their fire. She had been terrified when they'd woken up here, but now she felt safe, being with him, realizing what he had done for her. She leaned forward, placing a small kiss at the very corner of his lips. "Thank you," she whispered. "For saving me."

His response was to shift his hands slowly to her back, so that she had no way to escape. His grin had suddenly vanished, gaze glowing with mischief. She suddenly felt the same way she had back on the farm, when he had first embraced her. Her eyes became locked with his as he moved closer, mouth teasing her lips, fingers tightening on her soft skin. He whispered her name, barely letting her breathe before it came, though sweeter than before.

The kiss sent fire racing through her, body nearly falling limp as it deepened. Her arms wrapped tightly around his firm shoulders, holding him in place as he tried to break free. She didn't want this feeling to end, having missed it so long, but nevertheless he freed himself, breathing heavily with barely contained passion. Rossa just stared at him, begging for him to hold her, reaching out just as the cell door creaked loudly open. Two shadowed forms entered, one of them pinning Justin down as she was dragged away. His fighting was brought to an end by a harsh blow to his face.

"Let go of her," he growled, blood dripping from his lip. Though other than that the punch hadn't fazed him. The one holding her gave a hard laugh.

"We've finished with her," he said, tossing the mouse aside. The force of it knocked her unconscious. Justin's struggled increased, stopping only when he heard the ring of steel. He gasped, seeing a perfect blade, his blade, trained at her back, right where he hoped her heart was still beating. "It is you we want now."

"What did you do to her?" Justin's dark eyes were the gates of hell, his voice a low, primal growl. The guard holding him chuckled, hauling the youth to his feet.

"We wanted to make she did not die before her torture was finished," he hissed, pulling him to the hall. It was barely brighter than their cell, the torches only inches bigger. He was roughly led down a straight hall, lined with brick and empty cells, their blood-spattered doors opened to reveal their dim, dank interiors. Finally, a sharp bend brought them to a room with black walls, a circle of white light centered on a surgical table. Resting beside it was a tray of full syringes, held by a young girl with fearful red eyes.

"We have prepared them," she hissed, voice tattered. She smiled as Justin was forced on the table, clothes ripped from his body as he was bound to it by steel rings on his wrists and ankles. Still he fought with all his strength, stopping only when the first of many fierce pains dug into his side, reopening the wound long ago received at NIMH. It went this way for several hours, his voice growing faint as his gasps became harsher, vision blurring from the fire coursing through him. At last the pain faded, and he was tossed to the ground. He struggled to his feet, barely catching the tattered brown cloth the girl tossed in his direction. It was a prisoner's uniform. He pulled it on to fight the chill that was flooding the chamber, his arms pulled behind him as he was led back to the cell. They tossed him roughly within, laughing cruelly.

"No!" he pounded the metal as the door slammed shut, teeth bared in anger. His breath was still heavy as he turned away, seeing Rossa lie on the cold soil floor. She shifted, showing she was still alive. Moments later he collapsed, watching her as the world faded into black...

* * *

><p>Sorry the pace in this one is kinda screwy; hopefully it wasn't too confusing.<p> 


	6. Dreaming

He awoke to pained, frightened screams. He looked to see Rossa lying in her straw bed; tears pouring from her tightly closed eyes. Confused words dripped from her lips, giving glimpses of what raged in her head. Justin moved to her side, watching as she tossed and turned whilst wrapped in a nightmare. He pulled her up, gripping her shoulders, hissing her name to bring her back to reality. In a few minutes her eyes flew open, staring blankly into the dimness surrounding them.

"Rossa," he held her close, wiping her tears. "What's troubling you?"

"Oh, Justin," her voice was uneven. "I had the most horrid dream!" she paused to take breath. "Jenner was alive, demanding the Stone, killing my children when I refused to give it to him…" she described the whole thing, how it had taken place in the destroyed halls of the rosebush, in the council room she'd seen her only visit there. The space was cluttered with debris, dead and unconscious bodies littering the cracked floor. She had the Stone clasped in her hands, looking around to see a black cloud of smoke form in front of her. It took the shape of Jenner, his undead scent burning her nose. His left eye was missing, blood dripping from the wound in his side, his tattered clothes blowing in an eerie, freezing wind.

"I-It was horrible," she sobbed, falling on his chest. She then spoke of how he had chased her, drawing a sword rotten with the rust of decades, looking for her through his blood-shot gaze. In an attempt to get away, Rossa had come upon an elevator shaft. She hadn't seen one since that morning, but remembered how to work it from when Justin had brought her to the library. She pressed frantically at the switch, looking up to find that the cables had been cut. She leapt away as the ceiling collapsed, revealing yet another torn body. It was Justin, a fresh, deep wound gouged in his chest, eyes closed in death. She screamed, running for a staircase crowded with debris. By then tears had flooded her vision. She stopped behind a pile of torn cloth and wood, catching her now ragged breath. Jenner called her name, searching for her, laughing all the while. His sharp teeth were bared in a horrid grin, an orb of golden fire blasting from his palm. It shattered everything it touched, soon revealing the panting mouse.

"Give me the Stone, Brisby," he growled, voice a frightening rasp. Another harsh glow blazed to life over his palm, erasing more of what little of his flesh remained. Her eldest child appeared, screaming as the blade was pressed to his throat. "Give me that Stone, or you'll bathe in his blood."

Rossa gazed at her eldest son, seeing the fear in his eyes, but for some reason could not bring herself to give up the gem.

"Never," the word echoed free the same moment Martin was killed, the ruby liquid speeding from his throat in a massive spray. His eyes rolled back as his body dissolved, merging with Jenner's. Seconds later Teresa appeared, her heart pierced before Rossa could speak. The young mother begged him to stop, wanting only to toss the gem at him. But its golden backing had fused with her fur, making her unable to give up its pulsing light. Jenner only laughed, reaching for the bodies of her last two children, muscle tearing from bone as he grasped Tim's face in his bloodied hand.

"You brought this," he hissed, and crushed the youth's skull like an egg. Still she was unable to give the gem. Lastly was Cynthia, cowering in fear as the demon knelt before her, taking her hand. He smiled, watching as she slowly melted, her scream echoing harshly around them. Seconds later he turned to Rossa, growling in anger as he walked closer, bony fingers tightening on the rotten leather wrapped around the handle of his rusted blade, black heart pounding through the gaping hole in his chest. "There's no one to help you…"

She screamed as the tip became buried in her lungs, watching him through fading vision as he ripped the jewel from her palm, laughing as he was engulfed by a ghastly red light…

Rossa collapsed, gripping Justin's shirt, unable to calm her shivering. Justin held her tightly to his chest, stroking her soft hair. He didn't know how else to comfort her, though smiled when he saw that her trembling was slowly dying down. Soon she was peaceful, though her heart kept up its fluttering pace. He tilted her chin back with his hand, wiping a stray tear from her cheek, smiling tenderly.

"You don't have to worry," he spoke, gripping her hands. The grin had vanished, voice suddenly serious. "I'm going to get us out of here, I promise."

Rossa didn't answer, having fallen back into sleep. Only now her dreams were of warm, tranquil things.

(****)

"Why won't you tell me?" Timothy was growing tired of his siblings' secrecy, glaring harshly at them. "She's my mother too; I deserve to know!"

"W-We know that, Timothy," Teresa said nervously, having never seen him this way. She looked away from him. "I-It's just…"

"Just what?" snapped Timothy. "You afraid it'll kill me, that the shock will be too much?"

The others cringed. That was exactly it. "We just don't want you hurt, Tim," said Martin, stepping forward. Timothy swiped at his hand, opening shallow wounds. The young boy then hissed in anger.

"Tell me where mother is," he demanded. "Now!"

"We actually don't know," spoke Teresa. "She was gone when we woke up."

Timothy paused, still seething. He had heard some strange sounds one night, several weeks ago, the noises heightening his curiosity when he'd heard his mother's voice amoung them. "Tell me what happened that night, before she left, and don't leave anything out."

The others hesitated, looking to Ages. The old mouse held a slumbering Cynthia. He nodded, leaving the room. After a while, Martin began the story with what had happened that morning, when he'd overheard Auntie Shrew speaking with their mother about going to see the Great Owl, about the crow he and the girls had found tied later that day, how the bird had claimed that a group of rats would be coming that night to move their house. They'd thought him insane, until that evening. Martin remembered watching through the doorway, seeing their mother cower from two creatures, who were fighting to the death.

After that their home had starting sinking, then there was a brilliant flash of light, and all of a sudden they were safe, the block coming to stop in a pit on the other side of the large stone. Again, Martin watched from the doorway, seeing the smaller combatant with a crude bandage tied around his upper arm, chest heaving as he glared at a black mass topped with a dagger. Then he had turned to their mother, who had fallen unconscious. He had taken her, gently, into his grasp, following Ages to the hole where Martin hid. The boy had been caught then, and the rat said they could talk after his mother was in bed.

"He told us everything," Martin concluded. "But we still don't know where mom's gone."

"Justin's vanished as well," said Ages, coming from the other room. Cynthia was nowhere to be found. "That old shrew told you that much."

"Who's Justin?" asked Timothy, then realized it must have been the rat. Ages explained that the shrew had followed Mrs. Brisby when she left that night, saw her speaking with Justin, then run from him, dropping the Stone at his feet.

"The Stone was a gem your father crafted," said the old mouse. "He hoped it would give your mother the genes and abilities that he had, but he perished before he could give it to her."

Timothy sat back. At first it had sounded hard to believe, but the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Then he realized something. His sleep lately had been haunted by frightening dreams, and they appeared to fight perfectly. "I know where they are…"

* * *

><p>Okay, not what I expected. The nightmare scene is a variation on one randomkungfupandafan gave my sister. Hope it's creepy enough for you!<p> 


	7. Bonding Hearts

_Sorry it took so long to upload this. Life got in the way._

* * *

><p>Rossa was again working on her straw blanket. Justin had been taken by the guards, and hadn't yet come back. She sighed; feeling her heart pound in her chest, thinking of what she longed to do with him. She hadn't known what she'd felt for him until she'd dreamt of their first kiss, how it had been full of a passion she'd missed dearly, a feeling she'd longed for since her husband's death.<p>

_But is it wrong for me to feel this way? _She had been asking herself the question since she'd recognized her true feelings for him, knowing some would say she was betraying her husband's memory by falling in love a second time. And it wasn't just that. Justin, kind as he was, was a different species, with genes she most likely would never have. He was more intelligent, and would live far longer and, like Jonathan, there was something about him she feared. But she didn't think too deeply about it, knowing the same fact was what allowed him to protect her.

She looked up when the door slammed open, eyes widening when she saw her friend bound, his arms held behind him by a pair of burly black guards. One of them let his eye drift to the mouse, lips curling in a nasty smile. Justin caught the look, struggling fiercely, eventually breaking the ropes that held him. He moved like lightning, smashing one upside the head, knocking him down, turning to the other. This guard was bigger than him, but the difference wasn't much, just enough that it made beating his tail all the more satisfying. They exchanged blows for several minutes, Justin getting little more than a bruised hide, eventually knocking the soldier back into the hall. His partner had risen while the fight went on, slamming the cell door before worse damage could be inflicted. Justin turned, hardly panting, moving to sit by the fire as though nothing had happened. The anger faded from his eyes the moment they fell upon Rossa's blushing face.

"I've never seen you like that before," she managed, going back to her weaving. He shrugged.

"I've never had to act that way," he said, running a hand through his hair. Like hers, it had grown greatly in their time of imprisonment, nearly reaching his shoulders. He then began staring into the fire, watching the flames crackle and dance as they licked at the wood that fed them. He pushed a few strands from his face as he thought of what was going on, why they had been stolen from their homes at such a crucial time, what their captor had in mind.

"They're going to kill us, aren't they?" Rossa had set her blanket aside, moving closer, resting her head on his firm shoulder.

"I couldn't say," he whispered, shaking his head. He had the feeling they were planning something of the sort, knowing it was only a matter of time before the plan came to fruition. He sighed, letting his arm fall around her, holding her tightly to his side. She smiled, running her nails softly down his chest. His muscles were taut.

"You're very tense," she hissed in his ear. Her voice was almost seductive. He lifted a brow, the ends of his mouth moving up. She moved in front of him, hands clasped on his neck, her lips slightly open as though waiting for something. They closed their eyes, and kissed. Rossa loosened the rope holding his burlap shirt closed, undoing the small knot at her throat. Her fingers moved through his dark fur, pushing aside the torn cloth, uttering a small moan as he moved to his back, soon discarding the filthy garment. Rossa pulled away to catch her breath, looking deeply in his eyes, dark and passionate like a deep ocean. He pushed the cape slowly from her back, saying nothing, claws becoming entangled in her soft hair. Any words she may have had were burned by the heat of his lips.

"We shouldn't be doing this," he hissed, moving so their positions were switched. His breath caressed her like a loving fog. She giggled.

"There's no one to see us," she gripped his shoulders, pulling his body down to hers. She could feel his skin throbbing, his heart pounding, every inch full of vibrant life. The bits of straw cut her back, but she cared little for the pain, giving herself over to pleasure. The dream that had comforted her so many nights was finally coming true.

"Tell me if I hurt you," he hissed. She made no sound when he entered, but he could feel her walls tighten. He went slowly, though his body begged for warmth, doing his best to ignore the rush that had formed in his veins.

"I love you," he could barely hear the words, leaning down to kiss her. This one grew deep, lasting despite their heavy breaths. He pulled slightly away, his eyes locked with hers, feeling her nails dig into the skin where his neck and shoulder met, groaning when he could go no further. Her body tightened further, begging his release, tears welling at the very corners of her wide, beautiful eyes. He lifted one claw to wipe them away, letting go of his offering little by little, until at last his well was empty, his voice ragged as he let his body fall beside hers.

"I love you," he gripped her hand, letting his arm drift across her, pulling her close. She buried her face in his warm chest, feeling sweat coat her lips, her body aching from what they'd just done. He reached over, grasping her unfinished blanket, bringing it across their naked bodies, hiding them from the chill that swirled in the air. In mere minutes they were asleep, content in the depths of hell.

(****)

Ages and the children were en route to Thorn Valley, after hearing about Timothy's visions regarding his mother, and perhaps the very future of their kind. Jeremy the crow carried them easily, flying swiftly over the forest, past the river, continuing to the black mountains that loomed in the distance, the result of a massive prehistoric climate shift. They were there thirty minutes after taking off, the crow landing perfectly when he reached the valley's blooming fields. The rats scattered about moved closer, asking questions, shocked when they were informed.

"Is mommy here?" said Cynthia. The child was hiding behind her eldest brother, frightened by the creatures surrounding her. One of them, dressed in a blue and white guard's uniform, moved to the front, kneeling to the childrens' level.

"I'm afraid she isn't," he said gently, trying not to scare her further. Still kneeling, he turned to the mouse that had accompanied the four. "Anything, Ages?"

"T-That's why we're here," said Timothy. He stepped in front of the aging mouse. "I think I know where my mother is…and Justin too."

"Impossible," the rat said at first, then looked unsure. He rose to his feet, looking back into the crowd. A lovely girl with black and white fur stepped to the front, looking worried. She brought the other three children along with her, leaving Timothy and Ages with Carlos, who gripped her hand tightly as she passed. She smiled, blushing before moving on. He watched as she vanished inside the cliffs, turning back to the juvenile and aging doctor. "What did you see?"

"It was a cave," began Timothy, turning to point to the mountains. "A really big cave deep in the woods."

"Anything else?" asked Carlos. Timothy nodded.

"There's a tree by the mouth," the boy continued. "It's split, surrounded by dead branches and leaves, guarded by…"

"By what?"

Tim shook his head. "I can't describe them," he said. "But they're big…huge, and…" he trailed off again.

"What's wrong?" Timothy shivered.

"Whoever took them," he said. "He wants to kill them…"

(****)

Teresa stared out the window, wiping a tear from her eye. The sun was setting. She had her sister had been left with Isabella, while her brothers stayed with Carlos. She had no idea what the boys were planning, but felt scared all the same. She turned away at a small sigh, seeing her sister lounge in the rat's arms.

"Why are they doing this?" she asked the dirt wall. "Why?"

Izzy shook her head, unable to answer. She'd been watching the girls for hours, barely hiding her curiosity. "Whatever's going on," she said at last, but didn't finish the thought. She rose with the sleeping toddler still in her arms, drifting silently off to her spare bedroom. Two small beds had been delivered earlier that day, so the Brisby children would have a comfortable place to rest in their new environment. Teresa followed her, watching as her sister was placed beneath the dark red sheets.

"They look almost like blood," she hissed without thinking. Izzy nodded.

"They do, don't they?" she finished tucking the young mouse in, then glanced at Teresa. "You're not ready to go to bed yet, are you?"

"No," Teresa shook her head. "I couldn't sleep anyway."

Izzy smiled, bringing her to the couch. "I know you're scared," she said as the mouse climbed up. "But you don't have to be."

"Why not?"

Izzy smiled. "Because Justin's with her," she gripped the younger girl's hand. "And he wouldn't let anything happen to her."

Teresa shrugged. "How can you be so sure?"

Here the rat blushed, lowering her voice. "Because…he loves her."

Teresa sat stunned, then burst out laughing. "No way," she said at last, barely keeping her voice low. "Are you serious?"

Izzy nodded. "He really does love her."

"How do you know?"

"I could tell by the way he looked at her, and how he acted around her. He's never been that way before."

Teresa sat back, trying to imagine it. The leader of the Rats of NIMH was in love with her mother? "How does my mom feel?"

Izzy looked around, still blushing. "Don't tell anyone I told you this, but…" she leaned closer. "I saw them kiss."

The mouse felt her jaw drop. "What…when?"

"Right before they disappeared," Izzy explained how she'd followed Justin after he'd left the bush, watching from the tall grass as he spoke with Mrs. Brisby. After a few minutes he'd taken her to a different spot, where she'd started crying about his having to leave. He wrapped his arms around her, and kissed her. "I left after that. I don't know what happened next."

"Well something abducted them," said Teresa, burying her face in her hands. She shivered. "And from what I've heard, Justin's the only one who can save her."


	8. Planning

_I can't believe I lost this file! Ugh! I actually had to copy the chapters from this site, and then paste them all onto a word document. Thankfully, I hadn't really started this one yet, so I was able to go crazy with it. You guys like surprises, right?_

* * *

><p>Justin had a plan, and part of it involved ambushing a guard and stealing their uniform. The only problem? They were all bigger than he was, and he knew they'd see through his disguise quickly. Though he figured that wouldn't last too much longer. The injections helped a bit, but it was mostly due to the fact that he kept himself busy, practicing everything he'd learned as a guard, recalling the skills that'd made him captain in the first place. Of course, he only did this when Rossa was asleep, not because he was embarrassed, but because he didn't want her to worry more than she already did. He also wanted to spend as much time as he could with her, just in case. He stopped what he was doing, turning to stare at her, giving a soft sigh, half love-struck, half worried.<p>

Rossa was spending more and more of her time sleeping, shivering almost mercilessly when he wasn't beside her, and some nights she even spent crying.

_What did they do to her? _His gaze traveled to her face, watched as she bit her lip, as her claws sank into the folded cloth beneath her head. He could hear her whimper, her voice calling his name. He sighed again, waited for his breath to calm before he went near, slipping beneath their straw blanket, draping his arm around her.

"It's okay, Rossa," he whispered. He pulled her closer, watched as she clung to him. "It's going to be okay…"

She suddenly shifted, her eyes coming open. She lifted her head, her gasps still frightened. They calmed though, once she saw his face, and she almost smiled. She hadn't recognized the feeling of his body, had barely known his scent, but she could never forget the look in his eyes.

"What's been going on?" he asked. _What did they do to you?_

"I'm f—" she began, then shook her head. She didn't know how she was feeling, why so much of her time was spent crying, why she slept so many hours away. "I just…I don't know…"

She lowered her face to his chest again, but he pulled away, rising to his knees, bringing her up with him.

"I know something's bothering you," he said firmly, and gripped her shoulders. "Just tell me what's happening."

She gazed at him, barely feeling the claw that wiped an idle tear.

"Rossa…"

"I-I…I guess I'm just…worried," she said at last. "About the children; they've never been alone this long before."

He almost chuckled. "Trust me," he began. "That old shrew is probably with them by now, or Ages will have taken them to the valley."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Ages may be a pain," he definitely smiled now. "But he really does care. He'll make sure nothing happens to them, I can promise you that."

She was quiet a moment, then, "Justin," she began. "I have a feeling you're planning something…something you're not telling me about."

There was a long pause.

"You're right," he said heavily. "I've been plotting our escape, but I'm not quite sure about it yet."

He went on to explain what he'd observed. He'd noticed there was one guard who always had his hood drawn, and who never spoke. He and Justin were about the same height, and by now, were close to the same size as well.

"I was going to wait until he came to check in on us," he continued. "But I haven't yet found a way to distract him."

She smiled. "I could probably help with that," she whispered, slipping her arms around his neck. "I've been told that I can be quite…seductive."

He laughed again. "I'll vouch for that," he whispered, then kissed her.

(****)

Martin watched the clouds pass, thinking of what'd happened. He and his siblings were safe in Thorn Valley, but their mother was still missing, and so was Justin. Besides Teresa, the Brisby children had no idea about Justin's feelings for her, or that she had also fallen for him.

_What's going to happen to us now? _The thought swirled in his head, refusing to leave. So far, he and the others had pretty much been distracted from their fear, and the friends they'd made were making it harder to recall why they were worried. It had been several weeks since the capture, and any hope of finding them alive had pretty much vanished.

_But we'll find them…the rats of NIMH never give up!_

"Though, technically, you're not a rat."

Martin gasped, and turned to see Carlos.

"Dude, you scared me," the mouse said.

The rat looked embarrassed. "Sorry."

It was quiet a moment, then what he'd said registered.

"Wait a second," Martin shook his head. "How did you know that?"

"Your mom told you about NIMH, right?" said Carlos.

"Yeah," the boy nodded. "Though it was mostly Ages and Justin."

"Well, then you know what it did to your father, and to us."

"What are you getting at?"

"It's true, we have enhanced physical prowess," began Carlos. "As well as mental, but…"

"But what?"

Carlos stopped. He had sworn to keep this a secret, but then he realized loyalty went more than one way. Jonathan Brisby had a family, and they deserved to know.

"Get your siblings," he said at last. "It has to do with your father."

Fifteen minutes later, they were assembled in Carlos' living room, impatient and eager to hear what he had to say.

"Okay, now I know what you're thinking," the rat said at last. He pointed to each one of them, oldest to youngest.

"Martin, you're wishing we could just get this over with," he began. "Teresa, you're thinking about Justin and your mother, Timothy wants to go back to the library, and Cynthia wants to go back to daycare."

The four mice sat with awed expressions. Carlos had been right, on all counts.

"B-But, how did you know?" said Timothy.

"It's a side effect," said Carlos. "Of the extra injections some of the originals got back at NIMH."

It took a long time to explain, but he was doing his best to make sure they understood everything. Out of each group, several had been chosen to receive extra injections, which developed their mental capabilities far beyond those of their comrades. Jonathan had been one of those few, as well as Nicodemus, Jenner, Carlos' father, and both of Justin's parents.

"But, I thought Justin…" said Teresa.

"Justin thinks of himself as an original," said Carlos. "Because his parents abandoned him when he was young. They still live in the community," he continued. "But he hasn't seen them in years."

"Why they do that?" asked Cynthia. "That's mean!"

Carlos shook his head. "No one knows why they did it," he said. "Though plenty of them have their own ideas…"

(****)

By chance, a woman walked by, and her ears perked up at hearing mention of her son.

"T-That's impossible…" she told herself. "My baby's dead…"

That brought the tears. She buried her face in her hands, running through the tunnels. In a short time, her husband caught up with her, and she told him of the mistake they had made.

"And now he's been captured!" her sobs increased, echoing through their bedroom. He pulled her closer, holding her tightly to his chest.

"I've heard stories about him," he said quietly. "And if even one of them is true, then we have nothing to worry about."

"But, what will we do?" her head flew up. "Zach, what will we do?"

"Calm down, Lorett," he gripped her shoulders. "We're going to do just what we need to." He gazed in her eyes, then pulled slowly away.

"As soon as he gets back," he gave a deep sigh. "We'll tell him everything, and whatever he may think, at least he'll know the truth."

She stared at him, then nodded. "I guess that's all we can do," she said quietly, then went back to crying.


	9. Willful Shadows

The door creaked, and the guard looked up when water splashed. His eyes widened when he saw a figure, the young mouse he'd been ordered to watch. She was sitting next to a small stream, dipping her hands in the water and running them through her long brown hair. In another moment, she turned, revealing a face he knew had no rival for beauty.

"Oh, you frightened me," she whispered. Her voice was music to his ears. She stood, running her damp hand along her arm, coming toward him with slow, seductive steps. "I've been waiting for you."

The guard's eyes widened. _She'd _been waiting for _him_? Hardly realizing what he was doing, he pushed the door shut, reaching up to undo his cape. He took a nervous breath, licking dry lips, never seeing the shadow coming behind him. There was a large stone clasped in their raised hand, and they brought it down with crashing force. The guard grunted from the impact, his body falling with a thud. Rossa looked up, gazing fearfully at a tall shadow.

"Don't worry," Justin knelt by the guard, putting a claw to his throat. "I didn't kill him."

She gazed at him, watched as he stripped the unconscious rat to fur, gasping at the creature's horrifying face. Most of the dark brown fur had been burned away, and twisted scars dominated the youthful features.

"W-What happened to him?"

Justin shook his head. "I don't know, but right now we need to focus on getting out of here."

She nodded, watching as he threw off the prisoner's uniform, scratching the back of his head. The guard's clothes were solid black, and looked more like something a spy would wear in an old human film. The shirt was form fitting, long sleeved, and there was a vest with a wide belt of woven leather. He strapped the sword to his back, pulling on the hooded cape. The only thing that bothered him was his hair, the long strands irritating the skin of his neck. He ran his claws through it, shoving the hood back, dropping to a kneel. He looked up at a small tear, seeing a strip of red cloth in her hands. She walked behind him, laying it on his shoulder.

"Hold still."

She pulled his hair back, grasping it in one hand, wrapping the strip around it with the other, at last tying it off.

"You could always cut it when we get back," she said, moving back in front of him. Her hands glided to his shoulders. "But I always did like men with long hair."

He smiled. "Oh really?"

She giggled. "Really."

They stayed there a moment longer, then Justin worked on staging the scene. He dressed the guard in his old clothes, dragging him further into the shadows, so that only his hand would be visible once the door opened. The rat began stirring, which was stopped by another hard blow to the head. They waited until the watch changed, then Justin pulled the hood over his face, hitting the door with a flat hand.

"What is it?" the guard snapped. He looked back, seeing the disguise, watching as the masked creature motioned toward something in the shadows. His jaw dropped, and he found himself pulling the keys from his belt, not even caring when the ring was taken from him. Before he knew what had happened, he had been shoved into the cell, and the door locked behind him. By the time he snapped back to reality, Justin and Rossa were already long gone.

(****)

Isabella stared out the window, watching the rain. She had just had a talk with her aunt and uncle, trying to figure out why they had abandoned their son. At first, they'd been merely reluctant, but then had tuned openly hostile. Zachary had eventually shoved her into the hall, all while Lorett had sobbed hysterically into her hands.

"_Justin is dead."_

She remembered Zach saying that, and wondered why. Justin was about as far from dead as a person could be, and as far as she knew, anyone who had shown him ill will had already been buried; all but his parents.

_Did he do something we don't know about? _ She shook her head, drawing her knees up to her chest. She was sitting on the window seat in the apartment she shared with Carlos, trying to figure out what had caused this latest turn of events, why Justin and Mrs. Brisby had been captured for what appeared no reason at all.

"Jenner didn't do this," Carlos threw the door open. He was panting, fur damp with sweat, clothing disheveled. She stared at him.

"What are you talking about?" she questioned. He took a moment to catch his breath, straightening his forest green tunic.

"We've had a group searching around the farm," he said. "Jenner's body was found in the mud, right where it fell when Sullivan nailed him."

"What about Sullivan and Nicodemus?" she asked.

"We've recovered their bodies as well," he said. "Strangest thing is," he continued. "They haven't decayed at all."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah, and when one of the men got near Sullivan, they swore they heard him breathe."

She was quiet a moment. "Okay, now that's just weird…"

"I know," he nodded. "But Ages assures us they're all deceased, and they're going to be buried later this week."

It was quiet again, and he noticed her mood was shifting from uneasiness, to full-on fear. "Isabella?"

She shook her head. "We can't bury Jenner," she said at last, then sighed. "You remember those injections my aunt and uncle got?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Well, my father got them too," she explained. "And now I can…well, _see _into a person's soul, see what kind of heart they have."

"Okay," his voice was slow. "And _what _does that have to do with burying Jenner?"

"I'm saying," she sighed. "I'm saying that, _if_ we bury him, then the evil in his soul will pollute our valley, and eventually kill us all."

He thought a moment. In a frightening way, the idea made perfect sense. "Is there any way we can dispose of him without that happening?" he asked. She nodded.

"We'll have to cremate him," she said. There hadn't been many deaths, and cremation had never been attempted before. "But we'll have to keep his ashes in a sealed container, in a place where no one can reach it."

"That's easier said then done," he informed her, sitting beside her on the window seat. She shivered.

"We'll _have_ to find some way to do it," she said. "Otherwise, even from the grave, Jenner Genre will succeed in his plan to annihilate us."

He just stared at her, then went off to find the undertaker.

(****)

Rossa bent over, unable to go any further. She and Justin had been going for hours, and while he hadn't broken a sweat, she was exhausted. He stopped at her voice, turning to see her.

"I'm sorry, Justin…" she breathed. "But I have to stop."

He gazed at her a moment longer, then moved closer. He swept her off her feet, holding her so she reclined in his arms.

"We need to keep going," he said, smiling. She chuckled, slipping her arms around his neck.

"I should be fine in a little while," she whispered, then kissed his cheek. He laughed, going on as if nothing hindered him. In a short time they heard thunder, but he kept going until the first drops of rain fell, quickly taking shelter in the hollow of a tree. By then, Rossa was shivering, and he was beginning to grow tired himself. He set her on the floor, gathering dry debris in a small pile in the center.

"You're still wearing the pack."

"Hm?" he glanced behind him, seeing the backpack was indeed still strapped to him. He chuckled, putting it by the entrance, setting light to the debris. The tiny flames were surrounded by pebbles, sparks falling harmlessly to a floor of damp wood. He then sat beside her, draping an arm around her shoulders. She slid closer, so her body was pressed against his.

"Thank goodness we're out of there," she said quietly. He nodded.

"Yeah, thank God," he glanced outside. The rain was falling harder, and he could hear thunder. He wondered how long it would be until they were followed, knowing it'd be more difficult, if not impossible to track them now. "Then you'll be free to go back home."

She looked at him. "Y-You don't…want me to stay?"

He sighed. "Of course I do," he told her. "But are you sure your children would want to?"

She didn't know what to say. She had no idea how her children felt about the valley. She hadn't even gotten a chance to tell them about their father's involvement with the rats.

"You can ask them when we get back," he said, noting her unease. "We'll see what they say then."

She nodded, letting her head fall back on his shoulder. She gave a deep sigh, staring into the fire. For the longest time, the only sounds were crackling twigs, falling rain, and lazy rolls of thunder. Justin had almost fallen asleep, when there was a soft tap on his wrist, and his eyes flicked open.

"Justin," Rossa gripped his hand. "T-There's something I've been wanting to tell you…"


	10. Fractured Utopia

Timothy's pen fell from his hand. The young boy had been in the library all day, learning as much as he could about the rats' history, hoping to uncover more about what Carlos had told them. At the moment, he was slumped over a thick book, head resting on his folded arms. It was almost ten-thirty, and his lack of sleep had finally caught up with him.

"Poor little thing," the head librarian, a man named Jace, ran a hand through Tim's hair. If the lad had been conscious, he would've been unnerved by the smile curling Jace's lips, the mischievous chuckle slipping through his voice. "So alone in this big, wide world…"

He looked around, making sure they were alone, then gently took the mouse in his arms. He had done this many times since the Brisbys' arrival, but this was the first time he'd been bold enough to follow through on the urges he felt.

"You must be so _frightened,_" he whispered, being careful nobody saw. The halls were usually empty this time of night, and he took the opportunity to kiss Timmy's head, to let his hands slip across every inch of the child's vulnerable body. "And yet, if you're _anything_ like your father…"

He laughed again, recalling everything that had happened before Jon's death, how many nights he hadn't spent alone. Of course, Jon had never agreed to such things, but he'd always given in, and all because of one tiny drug. It made him feel godly, preying upon those too indisposed to protect themselves, even more since he always got cleanly away. Jenner had been lord of infidelity, theft, and murder, and Jace had molestation. Of course, unlike Jenner, he was content with keeping his sins hidden, keeping his true self lost from those who knew him.

"I'm going to spoil you…" he set Timothy down on his bed, then went about removing his clothes. He'd drugged the boy with a mixture of milk and rohypnol, assuring he wouldn't wake or scream. It also meant he'd have no memory of what happened to him. He finished pulling off his vest, laying down and running Tim's hand through the fur on his chest. If there was one other thing Jace was proud of, it was his physical condition. There were those he envied, but they got their dues eventually, that is, all except Justin. Justin had been the only one to escape from his clutches, but the lad had never revealed what'd happened to him, and Jace was sure the secret would never get out.

"But that's all in the past," he smiled, letting his claws wrap around the boy's chin. Timothy gave a small moan, almost a squeak, and it only increased Jace's ego. He loved torturing children, manipulating them, making them fear those they should have trusted most. But it was going to be different with Timothy. Oh yes, everything was going to be perfectly wicked…

"I've just started my reign," he hissed in Tim's ear. "And _you're_ my first sacrifice."

He gave a wicked laugh, then proceeded with his torment.

(****)

Rossa perked up. She looked around, realizing she was alone. The fire had long since gone out, and the space beside her was empty and cold. The sky was still dark, but she could sense something in the shadows, a vile presence, slowly coming nearer. She fought not to gasp, holding her hands to her mouth as she hid beneath a large pile of leaves. It felt like hours had passed before someone entered, and she heard two voices she thought she'd never hear again.

"Ugh, I coulda sworn he'd brought that bitch in here…"

"Humph, well _I _don't see anything," his partner snapped. Rossa peeked through a gap in the leaves, her eyes widening when she saw them. But she didn't dare make a sound, not wanting to put herself in any more danger. She watched while they searched, and though both had come close, neither had had the sense to check the pile she hid beneath. In a few minutes they left, one of them spitting near the doorway.

"One thing's for sure," said the first. "If they did what we think, then he wouldn't leave her alone."

The other nodded, and they vanished into the woods. A few hours later, Rossa was still awake, and Justin hadn't come back.

_Where is he?_

Her question was answered by footsteps approaching. She pushed aside her cover, looking up to see Justin with a fresh cut on his cheek.

"What were you doing out there?" she asked. He shook his head, kneeling by the dead fire and pulled some almonds from his cape. He then buried them in the ashes, giving the flames new life above them.

"There's a settlement, not far from here," he began, and wiped blood from his face. "You should be safe there."

"Settlement?" she looked confused. "Justin, what—"

"I'm not going to let them hurt you again." He seemed focused, but at the same time delusional. She sighed, moving close and putting her hand on his forehead.

"Oh my," she whispered.

He glanced at her.

"It's nothing," he said flatly, still tending the fire. He didn't even notice his fur had been singed. She took his wrist, trying to get him to lay down, when he pulled her to his chest. She gasped, gazing into dark eyes that burned with fever.

"You're not giving up, are you?" he asked. She shook her head.

"I don't want you sick on my account," she said, pulling away. "I don't care what condition I'm in. We're not going anywhere until…"

"Until what?" he turned to face her, gaze suddenly clear. She noticed several beads of sweat had formed in his fur.

"Until…" she didn't know how to put it. He chuckled, getting to his feet.

"And I don't care what condition _I'm _in," he replied, coming closer. He wrapped his arms gently around her. "I won't rest until you're safe."

They shared a warm embrace, breaking apart when small thorns came from nowhere, digging into their shoulders. Rossa fell first, collapsing into the pile of leaves she'd hidden under, but Justin fought the sudden urge to rest. He dropped to his knees, supporting himself with his arms, looking to see two shadows through blurry eyes.

"Hit him with another," the taller one hissed. The other nodded, and a small sound echoed through the space. A few seconds passed, and Justin finally succumbed, falling to the floor, blood still dripping from his cheek.

* * *

><p><em>Jace is another reason why this is rated 'M'...just saying.<em>


	11. Losing Hope

He awoke hours later, as though from a nightmare. His breath was heavy as he gazed around with frightened eyes. He was still in the tree, and Rossa was still with him. The sight of her calmed him, heart slowing in its frantic pace. She was still breathing. His gaze traveled to the thorn still trapped in her skin. Tenderly, he pulled it free, then ripped out the two he'd been hit with. All three were the same: long, sharp pieces of wood no wider than a needle. He gazed at them a minute longer, then tossed them into the ashes of the fire. He then set them alight, running a hand across his forehead. His fever was gone, dried sweat and blood clumping his fur.

_What the hell _was_ that? _He shook his head, staring at the flames, feeling Rossa shifting in her sleep beside him. Whoever had come after them, apparently they hadn't been sent to capture them, but then what had been the point of knocking them out? _They probably want to track us to the valley. _Somehow, he knew that was what they'd planned, that whoever had captured them had known his prisoners would escape, knew they'd return to the valley they supposedly called home. He glanced over to the blade still tucked into hiding.

_Well, they're going to get a bit more than they bargained for…_

(****)

Tim's vision was blurred, his head pounding. He tried to rub his eyes, but in vain. A cold feeling shot through his spine, and his eyes instantly cleared.

"H-Hey…where am I?" his voice sounded faint, weak. He looked down to see steel rings on his wrists, his ankles, binding him to what appeared to be a bedframe and, a minute later, he heard footsteps.

"Martin?" he said hopefully, when the sounds stopped. Whoever it was, they paused to unlock the door, and Timothy's heart dropped from his chest.

"Ah, so glad you're awake…"

It was Jace, his lips curled in a sinister smile, the soft tone of his voice freezing Tim's blood. Still, the child gathered his shattered courage, glaring at the rat with every ounce of anger he could.

"Where am I?" he demanded. "What did you do to me?"

"Oh, but it's not what _I _did," the rat told him. "It's what _you _did." He lowered to the edge of the bed, running his hand through Tim's fur. _You_ made _yourself_ vulnerable."

"I didn't do anything!" Tim cried. He fought again at his bonds. "What am I doing here?"

Jace only laughed, the sound cruel and chilling.

"You're here to be _mine,_" he hissed, and stabbed the boy's chest with his finger. "I _may _decide to liberate you, but know that you can never escape from me. I haven't done my worst yet," he continued. "But I _will, _if you do not keep quiet about what happens here, understand?"

Timothy gazed in the rat's eyes, shivering at the cruelty, nodding furiously as his throat threatened to close up.

"Good," Jace pulled slowly away. "Now, I'll be back later," he stared at the boy, smirking. "Just make sure you're still here when I return." He left, shutting the door and locking it behind him. As soon as he was gone, Tim started panicking. He knew from experience that calling out would be useless; the walls were too thick, and his throat was dry from thirst. His stomach growled, reminding him of his hunger, his weakness. He shuddered, wishing his father were there, or Justin, anyone who could help him. Thinking of the hopelessness, the young boy soon began crying, and quickly fell into a realm of deep unconsciousness.

(****)

"Hey, where's Timmy?" Martin looked around, realizing his brother wasn't with them.

"I don't know," Teresa sat up, rubbing her eyes. "I don't think he came back last night."

Cynthia barely stirred, alone in the large bed she usually shared with Timothy. A minute later, she awoke, feeling the cold space beside her.

"Where Timmy?" she asked, blinking sleepily.

"You think he's still at the library?"

Martin shrugged.

"Jace would've brought him back, remember?"

"Oh," Teresa thought a second. "Maybe we should check with Jace?"

"Sure, if we can figure out where he lives."

Teresa stared at the floor, but looked up at his words.

"We shouldn't look for Jace on our own," she said.

Martin slipped from the bed, going to the dresser and fumbling through it.

"Why not?" he asked, somewhat distracted.

She shivered. "Well, I have a feeling we shouldn't really trust him."

Martin pulled on a t-shirt, glancing at his sister. "What makes you say that?"

"I just…I have a weird feeling about him, that there's something wrong with him."

Martin sighed, pausing at the door.

"You two get dressed," he said. "I'll go find Carlos."

Teresa nodded, watching the door close, shivering as dread's cold fingers closed around her spine.

(****)

Timothy gasped, seeing the gleaming blade in Jace's hand. It was long, sharp, and narrow, silent but deadly.

"W-What are you going to do?" he rasped, breath catching. Already, his nose was bloody, his left eye blackened, right swollen shut. The torment had started hours ago, with a near overdose of rohypnol, then a long, drawn-out sexual assault, involving several instruments.

"And to think, this is _still _just the beginning…" Jace ran the blade along Timothy's thigh, drawing a long, slim line of blood. He let the fluid flow across his fingers, white fur growing crimson, his coal black eyes glittering. He ran the hand through his long black hair, grinning at the feeling. He then glanced back at Timothy, leaned down, and kissed the child.

"Oh, you have no idea how _delicious _you are," he said softly. He licked his lips, then deepened their contact. He didn't care how wrong it was. Doing this to a child was the most beautiful thing he'd ever experienced, and he hoped the feeling would never end. After a long time, he finally pulled away, holding his blade to Tim's chin.

"I've wasted so many young ones," he said. A note of sadness entered his voice. "They were such precious little things, and I killed them before I could claim them…" he sighed, running the tip down Tim's throat. "I won't make that mistake with you, oh no," he continued. He pulled the knife away, gazing down at the helpless child. His voice grew harsher with every word. "I'm going to take over your body and soul, make you forget what it's like to live freely, and _then, _after I've completely crushed your will, then I'll let you die a nice, slow death…"

"P-Please!" Tim cried feebly. Jace glared at him. "P-Please just let me go!"

Again, feigning sadness, Jace shook his head, clicking his tongue.

"Oh, Timothy," he said. "I'm afraid, now that you know my secret, that I can never let you go. You're going to be trapped in this place…"

"Jace?" Carlos knocked on the door. "Jace, we know you're in there!"

Jace growled in fury. Oh, how he _hated _to be interrupted! Quickly, he wiped his fur clean, pulled on fresh clothes, glared back at Timothy.

"Not a _sound _out of you," he growled. "Or I won't hesitate to kill you. Understand?"

Tim nodded, tears running silently down his face. Jace smiled, then pulled his door open to reveal Carlos and the other Brisby children.

"Yes, what is it?" he did his best to sound pleasant. He stood in such a way that the view into his home was blocked.

"We're looking for Timothy," said Carlos, sounding suspicious. "We figured that, since you were the last one to see him, that you might know where he is."

Jace hesitated, then shook his head.

"True, he was in the library," he said. "But I haven't seen him since he left last night."

Again, Carlos looked suspicious, and took a long breath. Timothy's scent had soaked in Jace's fur, and even worse, the smell of Tim's blood.

"Jace, I—"

The door slammed in his face. He stood there a moment longer, staring at the wood, then turned and left, motioning for the children to follow him.

"I'm no match for him on my own," the rat said to himself. "But no one'll believe me…"

"Uncle Carlos?" Cynthia tugged on his vest. He gazed down at her.

"Yes, Cynthia?" he asked, kneeling. "What is it?"

"I-I smelled Timmy in there," she pointed toward Jace's apartment. "H-He smelled hurt!"

"I know," he took her hands. "But I'm afraid I can't handle him on my own—"

"You won't be on your own," said Martin. "I'll help you!"

Carlos chuckled at the child's bravado.

"I appreciate that, but I'm afraid Jace is more powerful than he looks, he's dangerous."

Cynthia gripped his sleeve.

"More dangerous than Justin?" she asked, recalling the fight she had seen. Carlos nodded.

"Far more dangerous," he said.

"He didn't look that big," said Teresa. "Is he really that strong?"

The rat cleared his throat.

"Well, physically," he explained. "He's no more powerful than Justin, or me, but he has…certain abilities, shall we say, that make him a formidable opponent."

"What sort of 'bilities?" asked Cynthia. He shook his head.

"I don't have time to explain it to you now," he said. "We have to focus on saving your brother." He looked back to Jace's apartment. "Though I fear we may already be too late…"

* * *

><p><em>Well, this is getting good, isn't it?<em>

_I'd like to say that, since it's summer I'll be uploading more often, but I don't have my laptop anymore and I have summer school, but we'll see how many chapters I can get up..._


	12. Fading Curtain

_I was going to upload this last night (tried to three times), but the site was being a butt. Hope you like this new chapter!_

* * *

><p>Isabella glanced up from her book, watching her lover run a hand through his hair. She smiled, seeing how handsome he looked in the dim light of her lamp, her heart increasing its pace as he sat down beside her, draping an arm around her slim shoulders. He glanced once at the book in her hands, not really caring as his claws slipped down her side.<p>

"Anything interesting?" he asked nonchalantly. She shrugged.

"I've had more exciting things."

Smiling, she let the tome fall to the floor, moving so she straddled his lap, her hands clasping his shoulders as his arms wrapped around her waist.

"You have no idea how lovely you are," he whispered. He gazed deeply in her chocolate brown eyes. She shuddered as his claws drifted along her spine.

"So I've been told," she replied.

He pulled her closer, capturing her lips with his, the kiss quickly growing deep.

"I love you," he said quietly. Her grin widened, and she threw her arms around him.

"You don't know how long I've waited to hear that," she hissed, and nestled into his chest. He ran a hand through her long, dark hair, kissing the top of her head. She sighed in contentment, but noticed there was suddenly a change in his touch, almost as though something were troubling him.

"What is it?" she asked, and felt his body stiffen.

"Jace has Timothy," he whispered, after a moment's hesitation. "We don't know how to get him back…"

"We'll have to wait for Justin," she said. "He's the only one who can overcome Jace's power."

"What?" he gripped her arms, pulling her from his chest. "How do you know?"

She smiled, pointing to her heart.

"We share a psychic connection," she explained. "I know what's happened to him, everything he's done since he was captured."

"Do you know where he is?" Carlos sounded excited. She nodded.

"Yes, but he's already told me to keep that a secret; he doesn't want anybody risking their lives to come find him. Besides," she added, and her face grew mischievous. "He has a few surprises for the colony, and I'm not going to be the one to reveal them…"

(****)

Rossa bowed her head, staring at the grass beneath her. It was getting harder and harder to focus on the present, as her mind kept drifting to the past, and to the future.

"Will we ever get back?"

"We will," Justin gripped her hand. "Though I have no idea when."

"How can you even know where we're going?" she asked, not looking at him. "We were both unconscious when we came here!"

He chuckled, tilting her face back with his hand.

"I know these woods," he said mysteriously. "And I've also had a little help in finding our way."

"How? Who?" she asked. His smile widened.

"My cousin, Isabella," he said, and put a hand to his heart. "She and I share a psychic connection, and she's been guiding me on our way back to the valley."

Coming from a normal creature, the idea would've sounded insane, but Justin was a rat of NIMH, meaning that anything was possible.

"Then, how come…"

"I asked her not to," he replied. He gently took her paws in his. "I didn't want anybody risking their lives to come find us, and I also wanted to test my own powers."

"Your…own?"

He nodded.

"While at NIMH, my parents received injections most of the others did not, increasing their mental capacity to far beyond the others."

"B-But I thought…you were an original?"

He sighed.

"I like to think of myself as one," he said. "Mainly because I was born at NIMH, but also that my parents abandoned me soon before we escaped."

She gasped.

"But…why?"

He shrugged.

"To this day, I have no idea," he began. "All I can gather is that I must have been very weak, and that they saw no point in caring for me."

"How did you survive?"

He nearly smiled.

"My aunt and uncle took me in," he said. "They've been there for me my entire life. And to this day," he continued. "My mother and father would still rather think I am dead than admit their mistake."

Rossa gazed at him a long while, draping her arms around him as he pulled her close.

"Justin, I love you," she buried her face in his chest. "Please, don't ever forget that…"

He stroked her hair. "I promise I won't," he replied, and tightened his embrace. "You mean more to me than life itself."

She lifted her head to face him, unprepared for his hot, passionate kiss. Nevertheless, she answered it, running her nails through the soft fur of his cheek, never wanting to forget the warmth of his arms.

"Please, never leave me," she begged.

"I'm afraid that's a promise I can't make," he said, voice full of regret. He looked further into the forest. Their real destination was closer now, and soon, he would be forced to leave her behind; but he pleaded with heaven to return to her, as soon as his next grisly task allowed.

"Until then," he whispered. "I'm going to make the most of our time together, to make sure I never lose you."

(****)

Zachary shuddered in his bed, feeling the coldest sense of dread. He knew he was wrong, about everything, but he still clung to the belief his son was dead, to stifle the pain slowly forming in his heart.

_We've made a terrible mistake, _he thought, staring the ceiling. Beside him, his wife Lorett slept peacefully, though she was no doubt thinking of the child they had abandoned.

_H-He was so weak…there was no way he could have lived!_

The aging man buried his face in his hands, trying to decide what on earth he should do. If the stories he had heard about his son were indeed true, then Justin had not only overcome his childhood weaknesses, but he had far surpassed many of those he knew, if not all.

_No, most certainly not all…_he had forgotten Brutus. No one was more powerful than that creature, least not in physical strength. When it came to magic, to ingeniousness, no one was more skilled than Nicodemus. But, tragically, Nicodemus had suffered a horrible death, which apparently, Justin blamed himself for, the lad having not realized how great a threat Jenner had posed until it was too late.

_And to think, those two looked _nothing _like each other…_

They certainly hadn't acted like each other. Unbeknownst to the colony, Justin and Jenner had in fact been brothers, a fact not even the two foes had known. Jenner had been the only one of his litter to survive, back when he and his parents still lived in sewers and gathered discarded scraps for food. Justin had been born almost three years later, a premature infant subjected to mind-numbing experimentation. Apparently, the scientists had been curious as to how their formulas reacted in newborns. Every day, Justin had appeared more dead than alive, what little fur he had grown turning white and falling out, his small pink body never appearing to develop. Eventually, Lorett had handed the child off to her sister, saying his death was inevitable, that she wanted nothing more to do with him. Thankfully, Amora had just given birth to her own child, Isabella, and had plenty of milk to spare for her nephew, though he never showed any signs of growth until they had already escaped from NIMH, once he was no longer subjected to the torture they had put him through. Though, by far, his childhood had been longer than any of his counterparts, it appeared that he had finally come into adulthood and, if the vibrations he got were correct, had also fallen in love.

_I suppose we can no longer deny he's alive, _thought Zach. The grey rat brought his knees to his chin, gazing out the wide window settled in the wall of his home. The wind outside was a whisper, hissing across the grass, barely disturbing the leaves on the trees. It had only been a few weeks since the move, three months at the most, and already so much had changed; one of his sons really was dead, and was scheduled to be cremated, the other a budding young leader.

_I'm going to find him the moment he comes back, _he resolved. _I'm going to tell him the truth of what happened. Even if he never acknowledges us, he will at least know why we did what we did._

He gave a heavy sigh, slipping back beneath the sheets, hands behind his head as he settled back into his pillow.

_I just hope he survives long enough…_

* * *

><p><em>Dun dun dun! Oh, how's that for plot twists? And there's still a lot more to come, trust me!<em>

_(don't forget to review!)_


	13. Nightmares

Timothy stared at the ceiling, hearing his stomach rumble. So far, Jace had kept his torture to a minimum, the biggest impact being that he only gave his prisoner the most minimal amounts of food and water, also that he forced the boy to sleep in a bed soiled with his excretions. The stench made him nauseous, but there was nothing in his body for him to expel. Jace kept him shackled to the bed, so that he could do little more than lie, and occasionally sit up to feed himself. He knew he would've been reported missing by now, but also that Jace was too respected to come under suspicion; after all, he was a librarian, a scientist, not a criminal. He was too cunning to be caught, and he knew of Jace's powers, having been subjected to them more than once now, and each encounter chilled him to the bone.

_I've got to get out of here!_

He tugged at his bonds, only to have the chains be pulled taut.

"Well, I can see you're awake."

Jace stood in the door, one hand outstretched, the other clutching a yellow bowl of steaming soup. Every once in a while, he would indulge his prisoner, giving the boy far more than usual, if only to keep him from withering away any more quickly. The collar of his dark grey shirt was undone, his back vest open and crimson tie hanging undone around his neck. With his dark clothes, snow white fur, black eyes, and long dark hair, Jace looked more like a vampire from a human's horror story. He moved closer to the bed, resting on a stool, holding a spoonful of soup to Tim's lips.

"You must be _starving,_" he said, watching the child. Timothy devoured spoonful after spoonful, regardless of his knowledge of what came after such "generosity". Once the bowl was empty, Jace set it aside, making sure the door was shut and locked before removing his clothes, taking Timothy's wrist and forcing the child's hand through his fur. Timothy shivered, feeling the hard, lithe muscles, knowing what he was capable of.

"I _know _you won't be a child forever," Jace hissed, gazing down at the child. "So I am going to enjoy every moment of it while I can."

"T-Then, you're going to let me go?"

He shrugged. "Eventually, once I've satisfied my thirst for you, and once I'm sure your memory involving this…_imprisonment _has been completely erased."

The calm way he said it threw ice in Tim's stomach. Jace would let him go, and would also use his powers to ensure his victim didn't remember any of this.

"T-That mind wipe," said Timothy. "I-Is that why you haven't been caught yet? N-No one can remember what you've done to them?"

Jace nodded, looking dreamily at the small boy. He bent down and kissed the child's forehead.

"But you _are _such a special child," he said. "I may decide _not _to let you go once you reach maturity."

The mere thought terrified Timothy. Being trapped for life with this demon? He had barely lived through the past few weeks, and couldn't imagine how much worse it would be.

"B-But…what if I escape?" he asked. "W-What if I manage to tell someone about you?"

Jace shrugged again.

"I merely hunt you down," he replied. "And erase everyone's memory of you. If you defy me, you basically ask to never have existed."

Tim gulped, shuddering. There was no way he was capable of doing that, was there?

"I've done it before," said Jace, as though reading Tim's thoughts. "And the spells I cast can never be removed, so it is not wise to defy me."

Timothy stared at him, blue eyes wide with fear. Was Jace really capable of doing such things? Sleep began to overcome him, his last conscious thought being, _I hope Justin gets back soon…_

(****)

Justin gazed at the sword clasped in his hand. He hadn't noticed until then what a disgrace the weapon was. The blade was nicked and rusted, the leather straps wrapped around the handle loose and frayed. He wondered if those guards had ever really used them, or if the black sheaths they carried were for nothing more than show. Whichever it had been, it had taken him hours to get the blade back in fighting condition, so that the steel sang whenever it was drawn.

_They're going to regret making an enemy of me, _he thought, seeing his reflection in the metal. It was the first time he had seen himself in weeks, and frankly, what he saw surprised him: broad shoulders, muscular arms, long tan hair, and the black uniform he had stolen. He no longer looked like the slim little jokester he had been, nor did he feel like it. Instead, he felt dangerous, furious at these creatures who had made his love suffer, and now he was finally prepared to take his revenge. There was just one thing left to do. He turned to Rossa, watching her finger her cape, running her hands across her bulging stomach. His heart burst with love for her, and he knew she wouldn't survive what he had in mind. He had to find a place for her, somewhere where she, and their unborn child, would remain safe. The valley was still a long way off, and the forest held any number of hidden dangers. He thought of what to do, when he suddenly remembered something.

It was spring, almost summer, meaning there would be families of mice clustered around bodies of water. All he had to do now was find a stream, or the river.

"Rossa."

She looked up, her eyes exhausted.

"Y-Yes?" she asked.

Justin sheathed his blade, then walked toward the young tree she rested beneath. He knelt in front of her, taking her hand warmly in his.

"I know how tired you must be," he said quietly. "But if you can go just a bit farther, I think we can find a place to rest."

She nodded, but he stopped her from rising.

"Before we leave, though, there's something I've been wanting to give you."

He reached up, fingers going to the back of his neck. He unclasped a thin gold chain, one that had blended with his dark fur. Resting on it was a small heart, a blooming rose etched within it.

"Oh, Justin," she whispered. "It's beautiful…"

"It was my mother's," he said, and moved to drape the chain around her neck. He clasped it, fingers running down her cheek. "It's the only thing I have to remember her by."

She gazed at it, then back up at him.

"B-But I thought…"

"I know," he said. "But she isn't the mother I mean."

It was obvious this charm meant a lot to him, and he had just given to her. She smiled, going gladly when he offered his embrace.

"Mm, I love you," she whispered. He tilted her chin back with his hand, then kissed her.

"And I love you," he replied. But then the romance ended.

The cry of a hawk surprised them, making them realize they were still being hunted. He rose, cradling the mouse in his arms.

"If you can lead me to a stream," he said softly. "I'll take care of the rest."

(****)

"What? Jace has Timothy?"

Isabella's eyes were wide with terror, her mouth open in shock. Carlos gave a slow nod.

"Yes, and from what we know, he's been there for a while."

Isabella's gaze fell to her hands.

"W-We're no match for him without Justin," she said, and her hands curled into fists. "To go after Jace now would kill all of us, but we can't let Timmy suffer like that!"

"I know," Carlos rubbed her shoulder, then tapped her head. "Use that physic, whatever-it-is," he added. "And tell Justin to get back here, ASAP."

She nodded.

"I've never done that before," she said, but I'll try."

He nodded.

"Right, I'll go with the other children."

As soon as he left, Isabella began meditating, doing whatever she could to strengthen the connection with Justin, so she could talk to him.

_Justin, _she nearly screamed the thought. _Justin, can you hear me?_


	14. Separation

Sorry it took me so long to get this up, but I can assure you there's some action coming!

* * *

><p>"<em>Justin, can you hear me?"<em>

Justin looked around. Rossa was sleeping in his arms, and the woods around him were empty.

"Hello?" he said quietly, glancing around once more. "Is anyone out there?"

"_Where ever you're looking," _the voice laughed. _"You won't find me."_

"Why not?" Justin asked curiously.

"_Because I'm inside your head, silly!"_

"What?"

The voice laughed again.

"_Well, I'm not literally in your head, Justin, but you get my point, don't you?"_

"Isabella, is that you?" he asked.

"_Yeah, but please stop talking out loud. I'm afraid people might think you're a lunatic."_

He shook his head.

_You should've just said it was you in the first place,_ he thought. Once more, Izzy giggled.

"_I just like messing with you," _she said. _"But I think it's time to get serious."_

He nodded.

_I couldn't agree with you more._

"_Justin, where exactly are you right now?"_

_I'm heading toward the river, _Justin replied. _I need to take Rossa somewhere safe._

"_Why aren't you coming home?" _Izzy asked. "_Everyone's worried sick about you!"_

_I still have some unfinished business, _he said. _And I don't want Rossa anywhere near it._

"_What?" _Izzy was stunned. _"B-But, what else could there possibly be?"_

Justin hesitated, then gave a deep sigh.

_I'm going back to kill whoever kidnapped us, _he said. _So they'll _never _get a chance at the valley._

"_But Justin…" _she sounded like she would cry, though she quickly swallowed it. _"Look, I know how powerful you are, but are you sure you can handle this?"_

Justin chuckled.

_What do you think I did in that jail cell? _He asked. _I sure didn't sit around getting fat!_

His cousin couldn't help but laugh.

"_I guess you're right," _she said. _"Just, please, don't do anything too risky. There's a family waiting for you in the valley, and we still have Timmy to worry about!"_

_I know, _he sighed again. _Just do whatever you can to make Timmy more comfortable, and whatever you do, _don't _get Jace angry._

"_I know that, so does Carlos." _The connection began fading. _"Just please, please be careful…"_

It cut off, and Justin lowered his gaze from the sky. The oppressive grey clouds hadn't lifted, and it was beginning to smell like rain. He had forgotten how much he liked the smell, but now it only served to remind him of terror, of what would happen if he didn't win this battle.

"I promise, Rossa," he whispered, stroking her hair. "I promise I'll get us all out of this."

He looked up, hearing the faint sounds of civilization. The air also smelled of mice, dozens of them. He smiled, tightening his grip on his sleeping lover. This was exactly where she needed to be.

_I'll get you out of danger, _he thought. _I promise._

(****)

Back in the valley, Isabella threw herself on the couch. Ever since her connection with Justin had broken, she'd used most of her remaining power, casting a spell on Jace that would hopefully decrease his forbidden lust. Yet, she somehow knew she had worked in vain, for of all the magicians there were in the valley, Jace was one of the most dangerous. Besides Nicodemus, Jenner had topped the list, but his body had already been disposed of, the urn holding his ashes placed in a field, which was surrounded by a barrier. It would need to be replenished every few years, but other than that, the biggest threat to their lives and freedom was gone. Strangest thing, though, when Jenner's remains had been pulled from the oven, his ashes had been white as snow, not black as she would have thought.

_I still wasn't going to take any chances. _If something like a body had burned, the ashes were black if any impurities remained, but if they were white, it meant that person had been a pure being, that they would rise again. But, Jenner had been the exact opposite of pure, even before he had been to NIMH.

_The scarring from that just seemed to make him worse._

Judging from what her parents had told her, Isabella knew her cousin had all but been born a devil-incarnate, his deep, blazing hatred for humanity having started by a lifetime of watching, experiencing, the cruelty of humans. As much as the ashes told her otherwise, she believed Jenner had been unable to repent for his sins, his heart more black than a moonless, starless night, colder than the deepest reaches of space. Jenner had been pure evil.

_He won't be able to harm anyone anymore, _she thought, and fell into an exhausted sleep.

(****)

Justin pushed through a stand of shrubs, tightly gripping Rossa's hand. As much as he'd still wanted to carry her, she'd insisted she walked, not wanting to be any more of a burden on him.

"You'll never be a burden to me," he said, looking back at her. She smiled.

"I know, but I just want to make this as easy as I can on you," she said. He chuckled.

"After all I've put you through," he said. "You're trying to make this easier for _me_?"

She shrugged, nearly running into him when he suddenly stopped. She looked around him, gasping at the sight. Up ahead, there appeared to be a settlement of some kind, where several mice were talking in a group, motioning toward the strange pair of visitors. Justin turned to Rossa, taking her shoulders and kneeling to her level.

"You'd be safer here," he whispered. Her eyes widened in realization.

"Justin, what do you mean?"

"There's something I need to take care of," he said, stroking her fur.

Her shaking hands clutched his, voice tearful as she asked, "B-But, where are you going?"

"I have to go back," he replied. He glanced at the strap crossing his chest. "I still have a score to settle." He gazed back at her, putting a hand on her cheek. "I want to make sure they'll never bother us again."

She nodded, then embraced him.

"Please, come back soon," she begged.

"I promise." He returned her embrace, then pulled away. He leaned forward and kissed her tenderly, then gazed at her stomach. "And_ you _stay in there until I get back." His lips brushed against her fur. She clutched at his collar.

"I...I love you," she whispered.

"And you know I love you," he replied, stroking her cheek again. "That's why I'm doing this."

He gazed at her a moment longer, then vanished. It wasn't until he was gone that three bystanders walked closer, the oldest of them wringing her apron in her hands. She was a soft shade of brown, her eyes wide and green, and when she spoke, her accent was Cockney*.

"Well, dearie," she gulped. "Your husband is…r-rather large, for a mouse."

Rossa just sighed, a loving grin still on her lips.

"He's not a mouse," she said quietly. Her fingers drifted to the chain he had given her. "He's my hero."

* * *

><p><em>*Cockney- working-class Londoners who reside in the East End; the form of English they speak<em>


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